


Used to be a greying tower

by plaidcardigan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, I'm posting this here so that people can enjoy it, M/M, but the likelihood of me returning to this is negligible, it's been up on my tumblr for ages, maybe I'll find inspiration one day, or take ideas from it, who knows though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 19:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12514812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidcardigan/pseuds/plaidcardigan
Summary: It’s 3:00 am and Louis wants to murder his new neighbour.Baby I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the greyCorrection. Louis wants to murder his new neighbour and then smother himself with a pillow so he never has to hear Kiss from a Rose ever again; especially if it’s accompanied by a chorus of guttural moaning, squeaky bed springs and a headboard reverberating off the wall. Why the fuck the building planners thought it was a good idea to mirror the flat designs he will never know.Or the one where flat walls are too thin, neighbours need to revise their sex playlists, everyone around him seems to be falling in love, and Louis is just that bit too cynical.





	Used to be a greying tower

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So as I'm sure you've all seen from my tags, I'm posting this here because it's been up on my tumblr for ages, but the likelihood of me coming back to this isn't great. Nonetheless, if you do take the time to read it I would love to hear from you.
> 
> This was originally going to be the fic I wrote as pinch hit for the Spring Exchange last year, but ran out of time and instead wrote smoopy blowjobs in a locked bakery... No I'm not joking. Anyway, that's why some of the parts here are present in my other fic.

 

It’s 3:00am and Louis wants to murder his new neighbour.

_Baby I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey_

Correction. Louis wants to murder his new neighbour and then smother himself with a pillow so he never has to hear _Kiss from a Rose_ ever again; especially if it’s accompanied by a chorus of guttural moaning, squeaky bed springs and a headboard reverberating off the wall. Why the fuck the building planners thought it was a good idea to mirror the flat designs he will never know.  
  
_My power, my pleasure, my pain, baby_

And look, Louis isn’t one to judge a person’s preferences in bed okay? Lord knows he’s got his own weird kinks and hang-ups when it comes to sex so he can’t very well talk. What he does have issue with is that he’s pretty sure the songs his neighbour likes to use as the soundtrack to coitus are the same ones his parents did the dirty to when his sister was conceived. That thought alone is enough to make him want to pour industrial cleaner down his ear canal in the hopes of beaching his brain.

_My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen_

Louis’ also vaguely reminded of the 40-year-old virgin, although he’s quite positive that his neighbour is very much not, if the past month of similar instances are any indication.

_And now your rose is in bloom, a light hits the gloom on the grey._

Louis and his six-month relationship with his right hand aren’t envious at all. Absolutely not.  
  
He needs to get laid.

A hoarse shout, followed by a cut-off whimper and a muffled hiccupping sob pretty much seals the deal. Louis would have preferred to go his whole life without the knowledge of what his neighbour sounds like when he comes, and he really doesn’t want to stick around for what he knows is sure to be some equally disturbing afterglow.

So, facing the rather traumatising reality that he knows far too much about his new neighbour’s sex life and accepting that, yet again, he’s forgoing sleep; lest he run the risk of dreaming about Mark and his mother doing… things, Louis blearily slips out of the warm cocoon of his bed and fumbles around for his work uniform.

Pulling his shirt over his head and padding across the soft worn carpet to the door of his bedroom, he tries not to trip over scattered clothes and Bear in the process. He’s only half successful is this attempt, and earns a hiss and a swipe to the ankle from a very miffed ragdoll for his efforts.

“Shit!” Louis hisses irritably, reaching down to rub lightly at the scratch. “Leave me alone you fucking cat, I’m scarred enough already.”  
  
Bear simply looks at him, blue eyes shining with condescending scorn in the dim light of the hallway, before turning and slinking down the hallway towards the kitchen, claws clicking against the vinyl and chocolate tail flicking behind her as if to say, “Stand on me again, I dare you.”

Louis idly wonders if three years is too late to take her back to the pound for a refund. He could have sworn she didn’t act nearly as entitled when he first brought her home.

Sighing, Louis follows, picking up his phone of the dining table as he goes and sending a text to Niall to let him know not to bother with the early shift and to come in at ten. Bear is lounging on the wooden bench top next to the kettle when he enters the kitchen and she raises her head up for a scratch when he reaches over to flick it on.  
  
“So now you’re playing nice are you?” Louis murmurs, letting her lick his fingers as he scratches her ears and chin. He gets a quick nip to his wrist in response and she curls herself up until she resembles something of a chocolate and cream tea cosy, ears flickering, chest purring and eyes playful. Louis smiles at her in amusement, before stretching onto the balls of his feet to reach up into the cupboard above the kettle to grab the tea and a mug.

His phone buzzes with a text just as he finishes fixing together a small bowl of cereal and fishing the tea bag out of the mug with the back of a spoon. Captivated by the sudden appearance of light, Bear reaches over to bat at the phone and Louis has to snatch it off the bench before it goes crashing to the floor.

“Stop it you bloody little minx or else I’ll have you shaved,” he chides lightly, thumbing in his passcode.

_would have appreciated you letting me know before I set my fucking alarm you cunt. cheers._

In the nine years Louis has known him, Niall has never been a morning person so he’s not particularly surprised at the response. He starts to type out a reply stating as such when a second text comes through.

_you okay though?_

_Yeah I’m fine. Neighbour’s having sex again._ Louis affirms, hoping to garner some sympathy.

_hahaha what song this time?_

He refuses to dignify that with a response. Trust Niall to make a mockery of his suffering.  
  
Shoving his phone in his pocket, Louis grabs the bowl and tea and shuffles out of the kitchen. He pads through the small dining room and carefully ducks out of the window into the fire escape, settling himself down on the stairwell and only spilling a small amount of his tea in the process. He takes a bite of his cereal and looks out at his view, the toes of his bare left foot rubbing against the scratch on his opposite ankle.

The scenery isn’t much to look at really, just the graffiti-covered terracotta brick of the next building over, bathed yellow by the warm glow of the street lamp. Louis isn’t fussed though, the early morning air holds just the right amount of chill to chase away the last dregs of sleep from behind his eyes that neither his emotional trauma nor caffeine could dislodge. Drawing the crisp air into his lungs, he shuts his eyes and tilts his head back to rest against the stair rail, listening.

 The recent addition of his inconsiderate neighbour notwithstanding, ever since he moved into his shitty little flat five years ago Louis has been fascinated that, no matter the time of day, London is never quiet. Even now at 3:30am, when everything takes on an ethereal stillness, he can still hear a siren in the distance, a dog barking down the street and the faint sounds of a couple arguing a few floors above. It’s a stark contrast to his home back Doncaster, where the whole world seemed to freeze for a precious few hours before lazily awakening as dawn broke open the horizon.

_It’s comforting,_ Louis thinks as he opens his eyes and sets his bowl aside, reaching to lift Bear onto his lap as she climbs over the windowsill, his fingers tangling in her soft fur. _To know that no matter how lonely you are another person is always awake at the same time._  
  
Bear purrs in his lap and bunts her head against his hand aggressively when Louis’ fingers still, pulling him from his thoughts. Looking down, he snorts lightly and picks her up to rub his face into the soft fur under her chin.  
  
“I’m being silly aren’t I?” Louis asks her, pulling away to look at into soft blue eyes. He chooses to take the sneeze he gets in his face as confirmation. “Yeah, you’re right. Who needs people when I have you?”

Setting her back down, Louis debates staying outside for a while longer, but the dulcet tones of Seal that start to drift over from the direction of his neighbour’s flat decide for him. There is no way in hell he’s sticking around to listen to round two. No sir.  
  
Lifting Bear from his lap, Louis collects his half-empty bowl and mug and clambers back through the window, only just managing to avoid smashing his nose into the carpet as his foot slips. Internally appreciating the fact that the only living being present to judge his gymnastic prowess is a cat, he sets his dirty dishes down in the kitchen sink, slips his shoes on by the door and grabs his key.

  
If he slips back into his room and bangs on the wall connecting to his neighbour’s bedroom with his fist before he leaves, well, no one else has to know.

 

* * *

 

When Louis first moved to London to pursue an acting career after finishing sixth form five years ago, he quickly realised that, even with the support of Niall as a flatmate for the first two years, rent and utilities weren’t going to pay for themselves. So, instead of falling head first into the lead role of a Christopher Nolan film with no previous experience outside of school drama performances like he dreamed, Louis found himself waiting tables and making coffee at a homely little café called _The Daily Grind_ ten minutes from his flat.  
  
It wasn’t the most pleasant job by any means, the hours were long, the pay was quite shit and, being very much a tea man, Louis a hated coffee with a passion. The fact that he had the stuff thrown at his head more times than he could count by irate customers who couldn’t appreciate the acquired taste of a burnt roast didn’t help matters in the slightest. But the owner Evelyn, a short, stocky old duck with an overactive maternal instinct and a penchant for “taking in stray waifs” as she termed it, was more than accommodating to Louis and his utter lack of hospitality experience. So he stayed.  
  
It probably helped that she had a soft spot for Niall’s Irish charm and an appreciation for decent scotch; both of which Louis was more than happy to provide on a regular basis if it meant keeping his job.  
  
Eventually, after more than two years of unsuccessful auditions, Louis gave away his dreams of becoming an actor, bought a cat and took on a position as a full-time wait staff and barista. He built up a decent rapport with the regular clientele once he figured out how to work the coffee machine correctly and _The Daily Grind,_ with its cracked wooden floorboards, patchwork paintjob and eclectic wall paraphernalia became his second home.

So much so in fact, that, when Evelyn mentioned one evening during the late shift that she getting on in her years and was looking to retire, Louis immediately offered to buy the business from her. Which was how he found himself taking out a loan with the bank and convincing Niall, who had previously moved out of their shared flat to pursue an unsuccessful relationship, to go into business with him.

Thus, after a massive and eye-wateringly expensive renovation, more paperwork than he ever wants to see again in his lifetime and too many nights spent stress crying into Bear’s fur, Louis has been the proud owner of his very own cafe for the past two and a half years. It’s his child, his legacy and he’s very protective of both it and his customers.  
  
Which is why he thinks spilling the tray of chocolate milkshakes he’s carrying all over Ms Monroe’s brand new, pastel pink, chiffon dress is a perfectly reasonable reaction to Niall showing up for the mid-morning shift with a, “Hey did you know there’s a bakery opening across the street today?”

 

* * *

 

“You’re joking?” Louis splutters when the chaos has died down and Ms Monroe has left with a promise of a paid dry cleaning bill and discounted coffee for the next month. “Nialler, please tell me you’re having me on.”  
  
“’Fraid not mate,” Niall yells from the back storeroom where he’s replacing the mop. “There’s a massive banner hanging on the window that says _Grand Opening_.”

A sharp thump, a high-pitched yelp and a series of clatters follow his words and Zayn, one of Louis favourite regulars, lets out an amused cough of laughter from where he’s standing at the counter waiting to pay for his drink. Louis rubs his eyes from his position behind the till torn between amusement and irritation. He hasn’t had enough sleep to deal with this shit today and he can feel a headache coming on.  
  
“Did it look busy?” He calls back, handing over the change as he sets about making his usual tall, non-fat, half-strength, almond milk latte. Louis’ glad he never aspired to be a model, he likes eating real food. He mentions as such but then frowns when he sees the sheepish down tilt of Zayn’s lips and faint rose tint that deepens the tone of the blush on his cheeks.  
  
Feeling guilty for embarrassing him, Louis pours the milk into the cup and layers the foam into the appearance of a heart. He doesn’t have the right to judge him for his choices just because he’s in a bad mood. He’s clearly content with her lifestyle and looks fantastic. He places a bonus marshmallow in the middle of the heart in the hopes of making him smile and casually writes Niall’s number on the side of the cardboard. He hands it back with an apology and winks, pointing in the direction of the storeroom when he raises his eyebrow at the scribble.  
  
Let it not be said he doesn’t care about the happiness of his friends. Honestly, he should be declared a saint.

Niall emerges from the storeroom, a dark brown dust smudge painting his right cheekbone and an unidentifiable liquid sticking his hair together in a clump. He doesn’t notice Zayn at first. “Busy? It was fucking packed, the place was crammed in tighter than a strip club during happy hour.” He sneezes and rubs his nose on his sleeve. “Speaking of, we should go to Walker’s Court this Friday. I haven’t been in ages and Tom’s working the door at The Box Soho”  
  
Zayn blinks.  
  
Louis sighs. There goes his hard work.  
  
“You’ve met Zayn, right Nialler?”  
  
Tilting his head in the direction Louis gestures, Niall’s face flushes an interesting shade of magenta as he realises Louis isn’t his only audience. It drains to a pale white when he takes in Zayn’s amused expression and his brain catches up with his words. His mouth gapes, opening and closing like a fish gulping for air and, for the first time in all the year’s Louis’ known him, his voice fails.

 Zayn’s teasing grin widens.  
  
“Pleasure.” He says, taking a sip of his drink elegantly before looking towards Louis. “I’ll see you later Lou, excellent coffee as always.”  
  
He turns back to Niall with a smirk, “Good luck with that strip club.”  
  
Niall makes an interesting noise in the back of his throat in response, eyes following the sway of his hips as he glides out the door with practised grace, slim fingers tapping carefully at Louis’ clumsy scrawl on the side of his cup.

When he’s disappeared out of view, Louis reaches over the counter to push Niall’s jaw closed in long-suffering amusement. “You’re an idiot,”  
  
“He’s beautiful.” Niall breathes, eyes unfocused. He looks stunned.  
  
Louis snorts, “He thinks you’re a pig.”  
  
“An actual Adonis.”  
  
“And you’ve got dirt on your face.”  
  
“I think I’m in love”  
  
“Okay enough.” Louis snaps in irritation, headache flaring again. He whacks Niall upside the head to tear his eyes away from the door. “Stop thinking with your dick for five minutes and tell me about this bakery.”  
  
Niall ignores Louis’ words in favour of grabbing his wrists and declaring, “I have to go apologise.”  
  
Louis blinks up at him incredulously. “You do realise you still have work right?”  
  
Niall releases his wrists and yanks his apron over his head before throwing it on the counter.  
  
“Wait, you aren’t actually serious?” Louis questions in alarm, yanking on the back of Niall’s shirt as he starts towards the door. It proves fruitless as he finds himself simply being dragged across the shop instead, trainers sliding across the floor “Oh for fuck’s sake Niall! He’ll be back tomorrow, you can apologise then.”  
  
Niall ignores him.  
  
The toe of Louis’ right shoe catches on a loose floorboard and he stumbles, the handful of shirt he was holding slips from his fingers as he flails his arms out in a windmill to balance himself. Niall powers on, oblivious, and yanks open the door, letting it reverberate off the wall with a bang. Louis can only watch in stunned disbelief as he bursts out onto the street, yelling “He’ll think I’m a twat forever if I don’t sort it out now Lou!” over his shoulder as he scrambles down the pavement in the same direction Zayn left in, pushing though surprised onlookers.

 It takes Louis a while to register that, yes; the past five minutes actually did just happen.

  
“Oh for god’s sake. Fuck me.”

Louis stumbles over and presses his face against the front window, tilting his head sharply and standing on his toes to try and find a decent angle to peer down the street. He leaves a smudge of spit and possibly snot on the glass pane, which he’ll make Niall clean later because the infatuated dickhead deserves it.  
  
He sniffs heavily and licks it for good measure.  
  
“You know I’ll never turn down a round with that fine arse,” comes an obnoxiously familiar voice from the counter. “You only had to ask.”  
  
Great.

Louis sighs and shuts his eyes, thumping his forehead against the glass twice and praying for strength. His headache spikes sharply in response. Today is clearly not his day.  
  
Sinking back onto his heels and pushing himself off the window with his hands, Louis turns to face Nick with a scowl. He takes in his abhorrently tall quiff, plaid shirt and distressed skinny jeans, before glancing down at the bull terrier sitting at his feet.

Louis can feel his face softening. Manipulative prick.  
  
“We tried that _darling_ , you’re dick was far too small to keep me satisfied,” he retorts, sliding around the counter and crouching down to give Pig a pat. “And I thought I told you vermin aren’t allowed to enter my shop, this is a professional establishment I’m trying to run here.”  
  
Pig slumps on her back in a dramatic move she no doubt learnt from her owner, leg thumping on the ground spasmodically as Louis digs his fingers into her belly. He tries not to be endeared, he really does, but if there’s one thing he misses from his relationship with Nick, it’s being able to see Pig every day. He misses the sex too, of course, but that’s a confession he’ll take to his grave. Nick’s already enough of an egocentric bastard.  
  
“Professional establishment my arse,” Nick snorts. “I saw that rom-com worthy declaration of love from Niall just now.” He reaches over the counter to grab one of the blueberry muffins off the cooling rack on the top of the display cabinet like an entitled twat. He takes a bite before continuing in a muffled voice that he knows will irritate Louis to no end, crumbs spilling onto the floor. “And Pig is not vermin, she is a proper lady who deserves respect.”  
  
“Respect for putting up with you maybe, but she wasn’t who I was referring to.”  
  
“You wound me with them words of yours, Tomlinson,” Nick proclaims theatrically as he swallows, clutching at his chest and squishing the muffin into his shirt in the process. “How will I ever go on?”  
  
Louis rolls his eyes and gives Pig a final scratch, watching in amusement as her thumping leg stills. He straightens up with a scowl, knee cracking in the process, which makes Nick wince. Louis smirks and pokes him in the chest. “As if you can even hear me through the amount of hairspray that’s built up in your ears, you disgusting hipster. Now what do you want? I’m busy.”  
  
Looking slightly embarrassed, which delights Louis to no end; Nick takes another bite of his muffin and smacks the finger away before walking over to the closest table and pulling out the chair. He sits down and Pig trails after him to rest by his feet. “Can’t I visit a friend without another motive?”  
  
Louis raises his eyebrow sceptically before following suit and sliding into the opposite seat. “You literally _just_ saw me yesterday, so no. I know you’re a zombie if you don’t get your caffeine fix before the show, but I didn’t think senility was hitting you yet.”  
  
Nick makes a face at that but avoids Louis eyes, setting his muffin down and letting his fingers drum on the table agitatedly. “Straight to the old age jokes,” he deflects. “You seem to forget that’s a turn on for you.”  
  
_“Nick.”_  
  
He sighs, reaching out towards the sugar stand to grab at one of the paper napkins. He slides it out of its cradle with long fingers and begins twisting and tearing at it slowly, eyes fixed on his lap. He doesn’t say anything.

Louis tries not to let genuine alarm build in his chest; heart rate picking up the longer the silence stretches on. He’s never seen Nick act like this.  
  
“Christ, you’re not dying are you?” Louis blurts out when his uneasiness becomes too much.  
  
That makes Nick look up, fingers stilling and face aghast. “Jesus, _no._ Don’t be thick. _”_

Relief blooms in Louis’ chest at the denial. He lets himself bask in it for the briefest second before scowling at Nick in irritation. “For fuck’s sake don’t scare me like that. You’re acting like you’ve got _cancer_.”

He keeps his brow furrowed for a few seconds before letting his expression soften. Nick still looks uncharacteristically nervous. “Whatever it is that you’ve done, you know you can tell me right? I mean, if you killed someone – _have_ you killed someone? Oh god, okay. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll help you bur-“  
  
“I’ve met someone.” Nick interrupts, cutting off Louis’ slightly hysterical rambling. “I haven’t killed someone,” his lip twitches slightly in amusement, “but I have met someone.”  
  
Which.

_Oh._

Out of all the possible answers Louis imagined spilling out of Nick’s mouth, this wasn’t one of them.  
  
He feels like an idiot for not seeing it coming. It was guaranteed to happen sooner or later and Louis didn’t really expect Nick to remain single and abstinent forever; especially with the way things ended.  
  
That placation doesn’t stop him from feeling like someone’s just taken a sledgehammer to his chest though.  
  
Clearing his throat around the lump that’s formed, Louis tries for a smile that turns out as more of a grimace, looking up at Nick whose bottom lip is caught between his teeth. “How long?”  
  
“Lou-“  
  
“How long, Nick?” Louis cuts in, more aggressive in his delivery than intended as he fights off the urge to do… something. Like puke. Or scream.

Nick pushes his chair out slightly, reaching down to grab Pig’s leash and pull it into his lap, looking for all the world like he’s about to bolt. His muffin falls from its perch on the table’s edge and falls to the floor. Nick flinches. Under any other circumstances Louis would laugh, Nick is the most self-assured person he knows and the dear-in-the-headlights expression looks comical on his face.  
  
“About a month now,” he says, phrasing his words carefully. “”Give or take a week.”  
  
Louis lets out the breath he’s been holding, letting it flow through his nose in a controlled stream. He closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face, before interlacing his fingers and propping his chin onto them, elbows resting on the table.  
  
Taking another few deep breaths, Louis forces back the crushing wave of emotion he feels like he’s choking on; the urge to get up from the table and scream at Nick to get out, to take his fucking _someone_ and not come back because how _dare_ he?

But he forces it back. It’s not his place anymore and he has no right to do so. He made peace with the fact they wanted different things from each other, things that neither of them were willing to compromise on. He’s accepted it and, even if they’re not longer together anymore, Nick is still his friend.  
  
And that’s what’s important now.  
  
So Louis keeps his eyes shut for a few seconds longer, shoving that wave down into a box and leaving it there. When he opens his eyes and smiles at Nick; it’s genuine and he lets a chuckle slip through his lips at Nick’s wary expression from where he’s half pushed himself out of the chair.  
  
“Oh sit down you twat, I’m not going to do anything.”

Nick slowly lowers himself back down, eyes still cagey.

“Louis I-“

“Don’t apologise okay.” Louis cuts in again, Christ, he needs to stop doing that. “It’s your life Nick and just because I was a part of it for a very long time, doesn’t mean I expected your life to stop because we didn’t work out.”

“Bu-“

“No buts!” Damn it. “Just… are you happy?”

For the first time since this awkward conversation started, a smile curls at the tips of Nick’s mouth, his eyes lighting up. “I am.”  
  
Louis ignores the tightening of his chest at the achingly familiar expression of endearment of Nick face. He leans back in his chair and tucks his arms behind his head, crossing his legs at the ankles. He feels Pig rest her head on his right foot.

“Then that’s all that matters to me.” He leans forward again.  
  
“Now tell me, what’s this mystery man’s name? And, more importantly, is he good in bed?”

 

* * *

 

They talk until the lunch rush starts to pick up and Louis is forced back behind the counter to make coffee for a seemingly endless stream of harried business-people and dead-eyed university students. Nick’s someone turns out to be the lead singer of a local band that’s recently been making quite the impression on the music scene. They met when Nick conducted an interview with them on the show and hit it off instantly. Much to Louis’ indignation, he is, apparently, very good in bed, better than Louis for sure.

Nick is a lying liar who lies.

Louis crouches down to give Pig one last scratch behind the ears as Nick stands by the door. She leans into his hand completely, licking his wrists and fingers in a flurry of excitement and almost falling over in the process, which makes him snort.  
  
He pushes out of his crouch, hands braced on his knees for support and turns to face Nick. He looks less frazzled now, teasing smirk back in place, much to Louis relief; it’s easier to deal with the devil you know than one you don’t. 

Nick spreads his arms and yanks him into a hug. Louis puts up a half-hearted protest, pushing against his chest lightly and complaining about hairspray fumes affecting his headache, before leaning into the familiar embrace.  
  
It’s as comforting as it is painful.  
  
Just before he pulls away, Nick leans down and lets his lips brush Louis’ ear to whisper, “You’re life shouldn’t stop either.”

Louis stands frozen; watching the door long after it’s closed, until a particularly impatient customer clears his throat and demands to be served.

 

* * *

 

That night, after the store is closed and Louis is sitting on his old couch in ratty old sweats; tea in hand and Bear purring on his lap, he receives a text from Niall. He’s is exhausted to the bone from having to man the shop alone all day on two hours sleep and his headache has reached the point of a migraine, but he still slides his phone out of his pocket anyway.  
  
_sorry mate! i took zayn out to lunch to apologise and lost track of the time. Guess who’s got a date on friday though? No strip club for me! :D_  
  
Tears blur the words on the screen and Louis has to put his mug down when his hands start to shake violently. Everything that’s been pushed down since his fucking neighbour woke him up this morning; no, since Nick left six fucking months ago, washes over him like avalanche, exploding out of that locked little box in the back of his head in great heaving sobs.  
  
He buries his face in Bear's fur and cries, wondering why everyone around him makes it seem like finding someone is so fucking easy, wondering why he’s not enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you have any questions, come talk to me on my [tumblr](plaidcardigan.tumblr.com)


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